


5/9

by thecannabiskid



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Gen, possible season 2 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 21:03:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7479933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecannabiskid/pseuds/thecannabiskid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A month after the attack, Elliot is staying with his mother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5/9

**Author's Note:**

> Did you miss me?

Did you know this was going to happen? Elliot stares off, focuses heavily on his bed sheets. “Talk to me Elliot, not them.” He’s standing, “so you’re, what, going to ignore me?” Mr. Robot laughs, his father laughs. “That’s not a game you’ll win.”  
He’s been writing, simple sentences in a notebook to show himself he’s in control. Not him. Not Mr. Robot.  
He wakes up earlier today. Earlier than his mom. He’s supposed to see Leon today. There’s a game later that he was talking about the other day.  
5:31am  
“For fucks sake, this again?” And this is when he fucks up and looks at Mr. Robot. “Ah, so you’re going to acknowledge me?” Elliot looks back at his bed, back to his desk, back to his notebook.  
I am in control. “You’re joking,” Mr. Robot murmurs, leans over Elliot and he swallows. I am in control. This isn’t real.  
Mr. Robot swats him. “Knock it off.” Elliot whispers.  
“Knock what off, kiddo, I am you.” And he’s broken three pencils in the last few days from this. He still can’t fully get over it.  
“I’m in control.”  
“I wouldn’t be here if you were, kid.” Elliot closes his eyes, takes several deep breaths. “Come play chess, Elliot.”  
“No.”  
“You know what they say, kiddo, about delusions?”  
“No.”  
“The harder you try, the stronger they get.”  
“I’m not talking to you.” Elliot grinds out and Mr. Robot kicks back on his bed and Elliot can feel him watching as he grabs his broken pencil. I made the mistake of talking back. It won’t happen again. He writes it quickly, closes the notebook and secures it with a rubber band.  
Leon isn’t at the diner that morning. Mr. Robot takes full advantage of the situation. He starts by leaning over the table and eating off Elliot’s plate, takes a strip of bacon and Elliot can’t tell if he’s full or should eat more, blames his confusion on the fact that he can’t stop looking around. Without Leon rattling on about Seinfeld he feels exposed.  
“We should play chess in the park, looks like it’s going to be a nice day.” And he focuses on his plate. “She’s awful kiddo, you need out of there, besides, we have bigger things to be doing.” He prattles on and Elliot cuts up what’s left of the food on his plate. “That’s way too much salt kiddo,” and Elliot looks at his hash browns, sets the salt aside and tries to even it out by rolling the food into itself with his fork.  
He forces himself not to make a face when he eats them. “I can taste the salt on those from all the way over here,” and Elliot drains half his glass of water, listens to Mr. Robot stifle a laugh. “Nice and quiet without your friend here.” Elliot hates it.  
He heads home, stops by the basketball game down the street and Leon isn’t there. By the time he gets back home Mr. Robot is chattering up a storm. “Is that all she does?”  
“What?” Shit.  
“Watch TV?” Elliot pulls out his notebook, Red Wheelbarrow.  
“Don’t know.” Elliot says slowly.  
9:47am

He asked about mom, I answered him. I didn’t mean to. Leon wasn’t at the diner. I didn’t talk to him there. He sat across me while I ate breakfast. He ate some of my food. He didn’t have much to say. I’m still in control.  
He stares at the ceiling until the time that he’d normally get home. He gets up. Washes dishes. Then heads back out to the diner for lunch. “You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack.” Elliot cuts his sandwich in half and swipes a fry in catsup. “You shouldn’t be eating here so much, if the food needs that much salt it can’t be that good.” Mr. Robot says nonchalantly when Elliot picks up the salt, he takes a fry off the plate and looks around the diner. “Jesus, what a sad fucking place.” He takes another fry. “That guy back there is definitely fucking his secretary.” And Elliot stares right past Mr. Robot like he isn’t there, like he isn’t eating his food, fooling him into thinking he’s had enough of it for himself.  
“That lady back there has cat fur on her slacks. How many do you think she has?” Elliot’s skin itches at the thought.  
More fries disappear off his plate as he slowly eats his sandwich which is a little dry. “You’re really not going to talk to me?” He asks as Elliot is near finished with his meal. And he isn’t. He isn’t going to speak until Mr. Robot gives him the information he wants. He wants to know where Tyrell Wellick is. “Fine, I won’t talk to you either.” And Elliot fights a laugh, bites the inside of his cheek and an older woman brings him the check and Mr. Robot taps the table, fingers thrumming the surface.  
It’s the first day in four weeks that Leon hasn’t been there and he’s finding it difficult the later it gets, the harder Mr. Robot pushes the more he wants to break. “So let me get this right, we’ll get home, she’ll still be parked in front of the TV, we’ll sit in our room and then I get to watch you write down everything I said, you said, at the diner?” Elliot doesn’t speak. “Might as well put a bullet between your eyes, at least we did stuff before this.” Elliot slides the doors shut and sits at the desk.  
2:42pm  
Leon wasn’t at the diner. I still won’t talk to him. To Mr. Robot. He ate some of my fries, profiled almost everyone at the diner. The more I ignore him the louder he gets. I’m still in control. I’m still in control. I’m still in control.  
He does laundry, folds it and puts it away all the while Mr. Robot trails him. He’s got an apple he’s been eating but for the most part of an hour he’s been deadly silent and this is when he fucks up. He looks up at Mr. Robot and he isn’t looking at him, he swallows hard, feels a lump in his throat and when Mr. Robot looks at him he nods. “This is boring,” and he bites into the apple, points towards the sitting room with a wiggling fingers. “All she does is watch the fucking news.” Elliot fights the urge to nod. “Wasn’t always like that,” and Elliot isn’t sure if it wasn’t always like that.  
He puts his perfect schedule to the test later in the evening. He’s positive Leon won’t be there for dinner so he waits and Mr. Robot notices. “You’re pushing it kiddo,” and Elliot looks at the clock. It’s almost 7:40pm. He pulls his jacket on and heads out towards the diner.  
They eat in silence. Mr. Robot picks at Elliot’s fries and his eyes don’t wander, he doesn’t make a comment about a single person who walks in, he’s silent and so it Elliot’s brain. He doesn’t like it.  
When he finished his meal Mr. Robot stands, stretches as Elliot waits for the check and heads for the door when Elliot is ready to go. For a moment everything stands still. Mr. Robot isn’t next to him anymore and he feels a slow build of panic. Grinds his teeth to swallow it back and when he can’t he whispers four words. “Wanna go play chess?” And Mr. Robot is back, arm slung around Elliot’s shoulder as they head back home.  
“Thought I was a goner for a second,” Mr. Robot laughs and Elliot doesn’t know what to say.


End file.
